Being Alive 2016 Reboot
by soapfiction
Summary: Worlds collide when a soldier of the Cold War finds himself back in war-torn ancient Japan with no way home. As he struggles to survive, he stumbles upon a deadly conspiracy that threatens to consume both worlds.
1. Prologue

" _ **The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection."**_

 **\- George Orwell**

 _ **Between the ancient times when Gods and Demons walked the earth, and the rise of modern civilization, there was an age of chaos and rebirth. An age which shook the very foundation of existence, and threatened to forever disrupt the delicate balance of nature and will. For this age brought a new being, a new form of life into the world, where it would leave its mark like no others that came before it. And in this chaos, forces hidden in the shadows gathered and prepared to do battle, for the coming war would decide the ultimate fate of life itself. But the final battle would not be fought in one place. It would be fought across time…and between worlds…**_

 **Being Alive**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Whoever it was who had previously described the night as a quiet affair had never actually been out during the nighttime, thought a young man as he trekked through the thickest, darkest patch of forest he had ever seen in his life, listening to all the sounds of wildlife that echoed throughout. The night was anything but quiet. It was alive, loud, angry; and, without the blessing of sight, all the more dangerous.

Of course, that depended on who you were. In this young man's line of work, one needed to know how to move undetected. Darkness and distracting noise could work to one's advantage. Such thoughts creeped through his mind as he rode his horse through the dark woods. The noises of the night were not nearly enough to drown out the steps of his steed, but you would have no easier time making it out at night than during the day. He egged his horse on at a slow, steady pace, weaving his way around large, dense thickets of trees, and crossing brook after brook.

He sighed in relief inwardly as he neared his destination. It was a small cave entrance at the foot of a rather large hill. Dismounting his horse, he sent it on its way with a heavy slap to the behind. After the horse was out of sight, he went inside, and stopped to pull a couple of stones out of a pocket. He also produced a small stick and a piece of cloth, from which he fashioned himself a makeshift torch. Striking the two pieces of flint together, he produced a small flame from a brief blast of sparks. Putting away the stones, he made his way further into the dark cave, wielding the torch in front of him.

The cave was little more than a small tunnel, which required him to crouch slightly in order to traverse. After about a hundred paces, the tunnel opened up to a cavern. The flame on the torch had grown larger since it had been lit, and was now bright enough to illuminate the whole room, allowing the young man to glimpse the familiar sight in front of him.

In the center of the cavern was an enormous, hollowed-out tree. The trunk was monstrously wide, with the opening big enough for several men to walk through side-by-side. The trees' height exceeded that of the cavern it resided in, extending to the top with its branches curled and dug up into the ceiling of the cavern like overgrown roots. It had no leaves or other vegetation. The wood in the tree was of a beige color, with a hint of green. Looking into the hollowed-out opening, he saw nothing but darkness. If it was outside in the woods with all the others, it would have stood out quite magnificently.

Taking his eyes off the tree, he walked over to the wall of the cavern, and, stopping at arm's length, put his right palm on the wall. He took slow steps to his left, feeling the wall the entire way, until he came to a stop. Holding the torch close to where his hand had been, he could see a little circular outline in the stone. He reached his free hand inside the neck of his tunic and, after a bit of fumbling, produced a small medallion, which hung around his neck on a chain. He pressed it into the outline in the stone wall.

A second later, a section of the wall began to rumble. It moved inward, forming a door just large enough for a man to walk through. The young man entered, and the door closed behind him.

He stopped to put his torch into a small pail of water sitting next to the doorway. The corridor in front of him was lit with torches, and easily visible the whole way down. As he walked, he glanced at the passing stone walls, with carvings that formed tapestries. Soon, he turned a corner, and came to the first soul he'd seen in nearly three days. It was a guard, standing at his post. The guard held no visible weapon, and did not appear threatening in the least. Of course, the young man knew better.

He nodded, and continued down the corridor. Eventually, he came to another door, with two guards standing watch outside of it. They let him through, and he entered.

He looked around the larger room. There was a large, round tatami mat in the center, with a small fire burning in the middle. And all around the room sat the forms of at least two dozen others, all in kneeling position. Although their faces were clothed in shadow, he could feel all of their eyes watching.

A low, masculine voice broke the silence. "Welcome back, Samanosuke. Have a seat."

He did as he was bid, taking an empty spot between two others not far from where he had come in.

"I take it your journey back went smoothly?"

"As always," Samanosuke replied.

"Did you achieve your mission?"

He paused to sigh before responding. "I did."

"Inform us on what you found."

He took a deep breath before beginning.

"As ordered, I traveled to the western lands to meet with the brigand monk known only as 'Jiko'. I fell in with his order, and gained his trust…or at least what little trust there was to gain. For weeks I accompanied him on his work, confirming the rumors about the weapons he and his ilk had brought to our lands-"

"The stone-fire arrows," a voice replied. "Or fire cannons, or whatever they call them."

"Yes," Samanosuke replied. "Those. Anyway, he has indeed been dealing those weapons, though only to a select group of people. I watched those people train with those weapons, and I saw them use those weapons to kill. And then…and then…"

"What did you see, Samanosuke?"

The young man swallowed. "I saw the very thing we have all been fearing."

The tension in the room rose. Where before there had been nothing but silence from nearly all the others, Samanosuke could now hear breaths getting heavier.

"Tell us what you saw. Exactly."

"Jiko dealt the new weapons to a woman and her soldiers."

"A woman?" another voice called out.

"Please," the questioner responded, raising his hand. "Continue, Samanosuke."

"As I said, this woman commands her own band of warriors. To test the power of her weapons, she traveled to the west, deep into the forest of the Deer God."

He could now briefly make out voices around the table mingling amongst each other. He continued.

"There was a mining colony, living on a small island in an enormous lake. They were digging up iron ore, but couldn't work in the surrounding lands."

"That territory belongs to a boar tribe," someone said. "And they're led by a god."

"Nago," Samanosuke finished for him. "I saw him with my own eyes as he demolished one of their outposts. Even more powerful than I imagined."

"But what about the woman and her weapons?" another asked.

Samanosuke hesitated. He'd been building up to this moment.

"She took a squad of men, armed with the new weapons, into the forest, and faced Nago and the boars. They set the forest on fire, using other weapons I'd never seen before. They used military tactics to scatter the whole boar tribe, sending them into disarray. With their destructive new weapons, they slaughtered the boars in large numbers until only Nago was left to fight. And then…Nago himself was slain."

Gasps resonated all around the room, followed by an uproar.

"That's impossible!"

"There's no way a mere human could kill a God!"

"Surely Nago is not dead!"

The questioner from earlier raised his hand once more in an attempt to calm the room. "Silence," he said. "We need to let Samanosuke finish his account." He turned back to the young man. "How did Nago die?"

"The woman I told you about, who led the band of warriors. She fired the shot that sent him into a frightened tantrum. His whole clan was wiped out, and he ran off into the forest to die."

All eyes were one him once again. "You mean you didn't see him die?"

"There was no way he could have survived the wounds he had sustained. Before, he had always appeared composed. After she shot him, he had succumbed to madness. I truly believe him to be dead."

"What if he's become a demon?" someone asked. "What if the madness drove him past the limits of his sanity?"

Samanosuke hadn't thought of that. The very idea of it chilled him to the bone.

"In any case, I know what I saw. The boar tribe is no more, and Nago, alive or not, is defeated. The humans in that land are victorious, and will spread their influence further. I witnessed the expansion of their mining efforts further into the forest of the Deer God. Afterwards, I returned here."

"Is that all you have for us?"

He nodded.

The mingling continued, and the tone was not pleasant. "This is horrific," one man said. "A human with the ability to slay a God…no human should have such power!"

"If humans have what it takes to kill the Gods themselves, utter chaos is what awaits us! The lands will be consumed, and famine and starvation will follow!"

"We should have seen this coming! The great forests are already getting smaller than they have ever been! If the Gods of beasts and nature cannot keep human expansion in check, what can?"

While Samanosuke was quiet, he was nonetheless shaken. He'd never seen them act like this before.

"We can."

All eyes were on the new voice. The one to whom it belonged had not spoken up the entire night. "What everyone is saying is most certainly true. If humans have developed enough to be able to slay something as powerful as a God, disaster is indeed on the horizon. If that is the case, we must act, and soon."

"What do you mean?"

"We all swore an oath to protect the balance of nature, did we not? What other reason do we have for existing? Surely we cannot sit back and watch as this calamity unfolds."

Some nodded their heads in agreement. Others were more cautious.

"What do you propose that we do?"

"There are no easy solutions," the man replied. "But there are certainly steps that can be taken to curb this little excursion by our own kind. While we can act from the shadows, just as we observe, we can also consider moving out of the shadows, to influence humans in a different way. This pitiful excuse for a monk Samanosuke spent time with played on people's faith to achieve his ends. There's no reason we can't as well."

Everyone mingled and argued some more until the man who had questioned Samanosuke silenced them with another wave of his hand. He then looked to the man sitting next to him, a very old man who had remained silent throughout the whole affair.

"What do you say, Master?" he asked.

The old man sat with his eyes closed, silently contemplating. Eventually, he opened his eyes, and raised his head to face the entire room.

"We wait."

There was mixed reaction amongst the party, but only one person responded. He was the same one who had offered a solution earlier. "Master," he said, "surely you cannot mean that."

"It is not our place to act in place of nature, Bando. You know that as well as I do. You all do."

Several people in the room nodded slowly in approval.

"It is indeed troubling to hear that a God has been slain by a human…if that is indeed what happened. However, we do not know what will come to pass. Just as humans adapt to their surroundings, nature can, and has, adapted to those living within it. Whether or not these unfortunate circumstance become worse, we will be here to observe, and do our best to influence humanity's ways in a taciturn manner. But we will not play God ourselves. Pretending to be something we are not will make us no better than the ones engaging in this brash behavior."

The room remained silent, awaiting more of the old man's words.

"We are to observe, and nothing more. I expect all of you to respect this decision. That will be all."

With that, some people in the room rose to leave. Others stayed around the fire. Samanosuke began to get to his feet when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"See me in my chambers."

* * *

Samanosuke moved aside another thin tarp made of burlap to enter the room in question. It was rather small, with little more than a futon, a small table, and a tiny shrine built into the wall of stone. A lone candle on the table illuminated the room. The old man who had requested his presence was praying before the shrine, seemingly oblivious to his new guest. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

"Have a seat."

He did as he was told, sitting at the small wooden table that stood between him and his master. The old man produced two cups of hot green tea, which they began to sip. The tea was so hot that Samanosuke had to wait, yet he noticed his senior had no such handicap. It was as if the heat didn't affect him at all as he drank it.

After another sip, the old man continued. "I know you have just returned," he said, "but I have another task for you."

"Already?" the young man asked.

"Forgive me for being so impatient," he continued, sipping his tea again. "But I am afraid it is urgent. We have little time to act."

"Act?" Samanosuke said, taken aback. "Didn't you say-"

The old man cut him off. "I know what I said. It was necessary at the time. You haven't been with us long, Samanosuke, but even you know the kind of influence Bando wields amongst our order. He is charismatic, dynamic…almost hypnotic in his charm. But he's also ruthless in his ambition. And many of our colleagues were starting to see things his way tonight. I didn't want to alarm them any further by vindicating him."

He paused to finish his tea, putting the small ceramic cup down before resuming.

"But the truth is, he's right. At least about the urgency for action. They all are. What you witnessed during your mission was indeed an omen for dark times. If action is not taken soon to stem the coming chaos, it will be too late. Only it needs to be a smarter, more precise kind of action than the kind Bando has in mind."

"Why are you telling me this?" Samanosuke asked.

"You're one of the few people here I believe I can trust. I could have chosen anyone for the mission I gave you, but there's been growing distrust among our ranks. I know a number have fallen in with Bando, but there are still a few I'm unsure of. As of now, you're the only one I can trust for this task."

"And why are we acting now?"

"Because I believe Bando is already acting on his own. He would not have spoken up the way he did tonight if he did not have a plan in place. I do not doubt his sincerity, but neither do I trust his judgment. This means we have to act fast."

Turning around, he reached under the shrine, pulling out a small box before placing it on the table between them. "I want you to head south, to the region of Fujisaki, and meet up with our old friends."

Samanosuke paused before responding. "You mean the Rokuro clan?"

"Correct. You are to ride there tonight, as fast as you can go. And once you arrive, speak to the old crone for me. Give her this."

He opened the box and pulled out a translucent green jewel attached to a string. He handed it to Samanosuke.

"Put this in her hand. She'll know what to do."

Samanosuke hung the jewel from his neck, tucking it behind his tunic.

"I wish you good will on your journey. You may leave."

Samanosuke bowed before standing to leave. The old man watched him go, then slowly turned back to the small shrine. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a medallion of his own. He stared as it gleamed in the candlelight.

* * *

About an hour later, the old man continued to meditate in front of his shrine. Soon enough, however, he felt an intruding presence.

"Bando," he said, not moving or opening his eyes.

"Good evening, Master."

He turned around to face his guest. "What brings you to my chambers?"

"Our discussion from earlier," he responded, taking a seat in front of the old man. "I figured you might be more open to reason away from all those prying eyes."

"My position stands, Bando. We are to wait."

"I understand your discretion. Still, for us to do nothing at all…surely you understand how potentially dire this situation is."

"I do," he retorted. "I'm no more pleased about this turn of events than you are. However, I know all too well the consequences of impatience and brash action. I'd hoped you would understand."

Bando sat in silence, contemplating his thoughts. "Perhaps I do. And maybe I was wrong to doubt your judgment."

"It is understandable," the old man responded. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Bando, why do you think you are here?"

"What do you mean by that, master?"

"I mean, why do you think I have you as a disciple? While we have the same passion for this world, we rarely agree on matters."

"That's true. I sometimes wonder why you haven't tired of me."

"I keep you here because you provide a balance; to our process, to our very way of thought. There's no one else among the ranks who openly voices his or her thoughts as much as you do. While we rarely agree on matters, never have I demanded that you fall in line. And never have I attempted to silence you when you had something to say. Having a balance of thought and ideas in our order is necessary. It's what we are all about."

The younger man couldn't help but smile. "I see, master."

"That being said," he continued, "I also hope that you have learned with time. In no way am I implying that with my age and wisdom you would come to the exact same conclusions that I would. No two men in the world are the same. But wise men do have some things in common. And restraint is one of those things."

"All this talk of balance," Bando said. "I understand the need for it, but it seems like little more than a resignation."

"We must resign ourselves to certain things, Bando. It is our way as humans."

"Tell that to this woman and her ilk from out west," he retorted. "They don't seem to have gotten the message."

"Like anyone else who oversteps their bounds, they will face the inevitable consequences, Bando."

"But not without causing irreversible damage to the world around them. If certain people go too far, there may not be much of a balance of nature for us to preserve. Surely you can understand the desire to act in such a situation, even if brashly."

"Put yourself in this woman's shoes, Bando," the old man said. "Think of why she might have wanted to clear out an old forest and the beasts inhabiting it. She may simply be a greedy, ambitious, glory-seeking despot. On the other hand, she may wish to alleviate the suffering of poor common folk. You heard Samanosuke's testimony. She saved a mining commune from almost certain starvation. If she hadn't convinced so many people to follow her, she wouldn't be as powerful as she is now. I don't even know this woman," he said, taking a deep breath. "And yet already, she's reminding me of you."

Bando chuckled. "I guess everyone has a different vision for the perfect world."

"Not me," the old man retorted. "I abhor the idea of a perfect world, Bando. Mainly because, as you just said, everyone's idea is different. When people say they want a perfect world, they mean one perfect for themselves, and no one else. I'm more than content to live in the imperfect world we have now, where everyone will know at least some form of happiness." He turned around to face his shrine again.

"That's a very interesting way of looking at things, master."

"I only hope you appreciate them as much as I appreciate your thoughts, Bando."

"Oh, I do…" he responded, taking a deep breath. "And that's why I'm going to miss you."

The old man didn't move.

"It's a shame," Bando said, getting to his feet. "I'd really hoped you would come around tonight. But if bad news of this magnitude can't sway you, I don't know what can."

"You disappoint me, Bando."

"Not as much as you disappoint me, master. Now, if you will come with me – your judgment awaits."

The old man made a sudden movement before an explosion of smoke filled the room, blowing out the candle and rendering the room pitch black. The smoke soon dissipated, and Bando lit a torch of his own. The old man was gone.

* * *

Moving rather fast and smoothly, the old man made his way through a hidden corridor. It was small, so he had to crouch as he walked, but he made good time.

 _I never expected him to go this far,_ he thought. _How foolish of me. Still, there's time yet._

He reached the end of the corridor and used his medallion to open a hidden door, which led to the cavern outside. But he went no further.

Waiting for him inside the cavern were at least a dozen of his colleagues, all standing in the same robes they wore during the meeting they had held earlier that night, and carrying torches that lit up the cavern. He could not tell who was who, because each of them was sporting a ceramic mask where their faces should have been. He also noticed that some of them were carrying blades, which were stained with blood. Ready to confirm his worst fears, he let his eyes wander to the floor.

Laying below them was a more haunting sight: several more of his colleagues, sprawled out on the ground, pools of blood running along the stone floor. Each victim had a frozen look of horror on their face, one that would never leave.

The silence was broken when one of the masked figures stepped forward. "Terribly sorry about this, old friend," Bando said, removing his mask. "But we felt there was no other way. Sadly, you're not the only one who wouldn't listen to reason on this fateful night."

"These were your friends, Bando," the old man exclaimed, his voice taking on a tone of anger for the first time that night. "Your comrades."

"They were. And I certainly didn't enjoy this," he said. "But sacrifices must be made."

"Is this all you're planning? Commanding the order yourself? You won't be able to make much of a difference this way."

"It's worse than you think," Bando retorted. He reached into his robes and pulled out something attached to his neck. It was a translucent jewel, similar to the one the old man had given Samanosuke earlier. He stepped closer to the enormous tree within the cavern, and the jewel began to glow. A dim light began to emit from the hollowed-out tree. Seconds later, he could hear footsteps. Soon after, another figure stepped out of the opening in the tree. He, too, was wearing a mask, but that was where the similarities between him and the others ended. This figure wore clothes the likes the old man had never seen before. It was similar to a tunic and pants, but was a vibrant mixture of different colors. He also carried what looked like a weapon, one he had also never seen before.

The footsteps continued to emit from the tree, and several more people emerged, all of them wearing attires alien to the old man, and all wearing the same ceramic masks as everyone else in the cavern. Bando looked them all over, and smiled before turning back to his old master.

"I will miss my old comrades," he said. "But I have made many new ones."

"Who are these people, Bando?"

"People from another world," he said, his smile getting more devious. "The likes of which you could never imagine."

"What have you done?" he asked, a grave look overtaking his face.

"I'm afraid that's privileged information," he said. "Only available to those within my new order. And that brings me to my last point."

He took a step closer, standing face to face with his old master. "While you may have disappointed me thoroughly tonight, I shall offer you one final chance. You have taught me well, old friend, but I no longer believe you capable of being my master. If you join my order, and follow my commands, I shall not only spare you, but make you privy to all of my secrets and plans."

The old man swallowed. "And if I refuse?"

"Then you die."

Silence followed. Finally, the old man sighed to himself, and knelt on the ground.

"I suppose that's all, then. May you learn from your follies, Bando."

"So be it."

With a wave of his hand, all the masked figures carrying blades descended upon the old man. Soon enough, more blood began to flow along the floor, watering the roots of the enormous tree.

After the grisly deed was completed, Bando reached into the bloody robes of his deceased master, and retrieved the medallion he carried with him. After looking upon it one last time in the firelight, he crushed it in his bare hands.

* * *

Hey there! I'm back, and I hope you all enjoyed this beginning chapter to my new story!

I truly am sorry that it took me this long to get started, but I spent a long time simply planning out the story from beginning to end. A combination of writer's block and feature creep, along with a busy schedule, held things up even more. To tell you the truth, getting the prologue done was the hardest part, as I didn't really know where to begin. Truth be told, this is my third attempt, as my first two efforts at a prologue didn't satisfy me. But, rejoice, I finally did it. Now that I've finally gotten started, things will move much more smoothly.

Well, that's all for now. I'm already writing the next few chapters, so hopefully it shouldn't be too long before you see another. Happy trails.


	2. The Summer of Love

**Being Alive**

 **Chapter 1 – The Summer of Love**

The sound of a morning bird crowing at a rather close proximity roused a young boy from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he got an eyeful of filtered sunlight shining through the tent in which he had spent the night before immediately shutting them again. He fumbled around in his sleeping bag for something, finally pulling out a wristwatch before glancing at it.

 _Seven twenty-five_ , he thought. _Jesus._

Any hopes of going back to sleep were dashed by a small machine coming to life. " _Rise and shine, San Francisco,"_ the tiny portable radio blurted. _"This is Rick Donahue, here on KRFX FM, the only Free-Form Rock Station in the entire Bay Area. "It's twenty-five minutes past seven, clear and a pitch-perfect seventy degrees this Fourth of July morning. Now, before we get to today's playlist, I wanna get down to business about a little something I think we all consider important-"_

Succumbing to the inevitable, the boy reached around for the radio before shutting it off. Dressed only in a wife-beater and boxers, he got up and looked around for his pair of jeans before finding them, and slipping them on. Stepping outside, he got a full blast of sunlight.

Using his left hand to shield his eyes, he walked away from his tent, through the tiny patch of woods where he had made camp the previous night. He kept walking until he cleared the trees, emerging at the foot of a hill, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, the city of San Francisco, and everything beyond.

He could hear the sound of gulls and crashing waves, combined with the feeling of the ocean breeze flowing through his hair. He sat down on a fallen log, staring out at the majestic sight for several minutes before deciding to break the silence. He switched the radio back on, and sat it down next to him.

" _-and that was for all those tourists still camping out in the streets of Hashbury. What is it now, three weeks straight? Listen, I know you guys are out there for a good cause, but seriously, at least keep the place looking good, this city has a reputation to uphold. Next up, we have a little number from down south, something they won't play on any commercial station. Enjoy."_

Hearing a familiar song coming on, the boy got an idea, and reached into the pocket of his jeans. Feeling the desired object, he pulled out a small harmonica, put it to his mouth, and began to play along with the song on the radio.

Not a minute had passed before two hands clamped themselves over his eyes, blinding him.

"Guess who?" a rather cheerful voice said.

The youth stopped playing, and let out a comfortable sigh. "Good morning, Trace."

"And a good morning to you, too," the voice responded. The hands left his eyes, and he looked up to see blonde-haired teenage girl standing over him, wearing a mischievous grin. She sat down next to him, putting her arm around his shoulder and giving an affectionate squeeze. "Oh, and by the way…Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks," the boy replied, turning off the radio. "You came all the way out here to tell me that?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me why I had to come all the way out here," the girl said. "I went over to your house, but they told me you spent the night out here again. Why?"

Dante breathed a sigh. "Well, you know me. I just like the outdoors, and the weather's great this time of year."

"Nuh-uh. That's not why you're out here," Tracey retorted, giving him a look. "Something's bothering you. I can read it on your face."

"What are you talking about? I'm just fine."

"This is the third night in a row," she said. "Why are you all the way out here when you've got a perfectly good house back in town?"

Dante tried to stand up. "It's nothing, really…"

He was stopped when she pulled him back down and playfully wrapped her arms around him, trying to mount his back. "Don't give me that!"

"Ow! Trace, get off!" Dante said, falling backwards.

"C'mon! Are you gonna tell me, or what?"

After another failed attempt to shake her off, the youth finally relented. "All right, all right!" he said. They both sat back down on the log.

"Well, what is it?" she said, listening intently.

"It's my uncle."

"What about him?"

"Well, I turn eighteen today, don't I? And I'm out of school."

"So what? So am I."

"You don't live with my uncle. He's a real old-timer. Ever since graduation, he's been telling me that he's gonna start charging me rent to stay at home the second I turn eighteen. I have a feeling he's gonna live up to that promise sooner rather than later."

"He can't just kick you out like that! You're family!"

"Yeah, well, he tells me that's how they had to live when they were our age. Plus, it's not like they need me to play baby-sitter to all the others anymore. Anyway, I figure I better get used to living outside for a bit, at least until I can find a better job."

"What about your job at that radio station?"

"They don't pay me enough for that. I'm not gonna spend all my earnings just to stay in my old house. I'd never be able to save up any money that way."

"Well, what about college? Don't tell me you haven't filled out any applications."

"Sure, I did a few. But it's not like I can afford it. My parents didn't leave me any money, and my uncle's sure as hell not gonna pay for it. And even if I could, what would I study?"

"Anything!" Tracey responded. "You're really smart! You speak, like, three languages already, and you're really good with science, history and music! There's a lot you could do in college."

Dante thought for a moment. "Well, my aunt does want me to go to music school," he said. "But I honestly don't know…"

"Ugh, you're such a wuss," the girl snorted, getting up off the log and walking around. "You're never gonna make it anywhere in life if you keep being so indecisive!" She did some stretches, then looked out at the horizon. "You should really just stop thinking so much about what you wanna do, and just do it."

"Being impulsive is your bag," Dante said. "You know I'm not like that."

"Well, maybe it's time for a change," Tracey said, turning to face him. "You should stop worrying about what your uncle wants. He's not the boss of you. You think I'm just gonna blindly follow my mothers' orders and go to nursing school? Spend all my best years looking after old farts and cripples?" She smiled, and turned back towards the scenery, looking out at the ocean. "No way. I'm gonna go out and see the world, not stay in one place and let life pass me by."

Dante thought for a moment as he watched her. "You have options, too. Have you ever thought about art school?"

"Who needs that?" the girl retorted. "I mean, what would I learn there other than to follow the advice of a few washed up losers who couldn't make it in the real world? Who decided they were all so great? You don't learn about art by sitting in a classroom, you learn it by living life to the fullest! Honestly, I learned more about the world from all those people in the city than I ever did at school! And if you ask me, so did you."

Dante smiled as he remembered. "You certainly painted some great pictures."

"Well, I learned from the best," she said. "The people down there are amazing. They come from all over, from different walks of life…can you imagine all the lives they've led, all great things they've experienced? Can you imagine what it would be like to live like that?"

Dante sighed. "You sound like you have your mind made up."

Turning back to him, she continued. "You know what? Forget about college, and forget about your uncle. Quit your job, and let's just travel the world together."

The boy laughed. "Be serious."

"I am!" Tracey retorted. "We totally make a great team. You can practice your music and I can work on my art."

"Yeah, it'd be fun at first," Dante said. "But pretty soon, we'd be struggling just to eat."

"I'm just trying to help you out," the girl said. "I don't hear any ideas coming from you."

Dante thought for a moment. "I don't know. I just…I guess I've always wondered what I was meant to do…ever since I came to this country."

"Oh, that reminds me!" the girl said, running back over to a bag that she had brought. "I wanted to give you your present before you leave." She pulled out something attached to a string, and sat back down on the log.

Whatever it was, it was quite shiny, and gleamed in the sunlight. When it finally went still, Dante saw what looked like a piece of black stone carved into the shape of a knife.

"Wow," he said, holding out his hand to take it. "What's this?"

"It's obsidian," Tracey said. "I bought it from a street vendor in the city. He told me he carved it from a piece he got while in Japan. I really thought you'd like it. Perfect thing to have out in the wilderness."

"It's awesome," the youth said, moving it around in his hands, inspecting every inch of it. He touched the tip of the blade to his finger, nearly pricking himself.

"Be careful with it, though," Tracey said. "I don't want you hurting yourself with something I gave you."

He hung the stone dagger around his neck. "Thanks a lot, Trace. I honestly don't know where I'd be without your friendship these past years."

"Don't mention it," she replied. "So, I'll see you on the beach with the others tonight? The fireworks are gonna be even bigger this year."

"Sure, if I can get away from my family long enough," he said. Stealing a glance at his watch, he saw that they'd been talking for more than half an hour. "But I'd better be going. Gotta be at work in less than an hour. I guess I'll see you tonight."

He went to take down his tent and gather his things. Tracey went to help him.

* * *

Within minutes, Dante was riding a bicycle across the Golden Gate Bridge, avoiding traffic. He had dropped off his stuff at home minutes earlier, and was now headed into the city for work. As he rode, the portable radio hung from one of the bike handles, tuned to the local station where he worked. Unfortunately, the sound was drowned out by passing traffic. Seeing the radio tower in the distance, Dante made his way across the bridge and through town, eventually spotting the radio tower at the top of a hill. Parking his bike, he went inside and got to work.

The station was not a large one, and didn't get the funding that most radio stations tended to get. As a result, it had only a handful of employees. Although Dante was officially an assistant to the disc jockey, he worked several jobs, mainly the menial ones the others had no time to do. He kept track of records and files, cleaned microphones, players and other equipment after a days' use, took notes and wrote transcripts, and even did custodial work.

His favorite job, though, was to help decide which records would be played. The DJ, Donahue, also served as the stations music director, and was in charge of bringing in new material. He needed help deciding which records he would spin for his playlists, and had Dante help him sort through records and listen to them. It was easily the thing he looked forward to most whenever he went into work.

Eventually, the lunch hour came, and Dante went on break. He walked down the street to a nearby diner, stepping inside.

"Welcome back," the old lady behind the counter greeted.

"Afternoon, Gladys," Dante said, walking up to the counter. "What's good today?"

"You know what day it is, right? We've got at least three specials today."

"What's the best one?"

"Personally, I'd recommend the pastrami Reuben. Comes with a fresh batch of the best onion rings in the city."

"I'm sold!"

The woman poured Dante a Coke as he waited for his food. He looked around the diner as he sipped his drink, noticing how packed the place was. There were a few groups of teenagers, as well as a lone man sitting at a booth, dressed in what looked like a military uniform. There were also some people dressed in brightly and multi-colored clothes, carrying cameras and chatting away.

"Business is good, I see," Dante said.

"It's all these tourists," Gladys replied, facing the grill. "They've been coming all summer, drawn to all that nonsense happening down in the Haight district. And things are only gonna get busier when the 4th of July parade comes by. But business is business, I suppose," she grumbled. "I just wish they wouldn't make so much noise at night. All that blasted music they play…it's impossible for people to get any sleep!"

She was right about that, Dante thought to himself as he sipped his drink again. Tourists _had_ been pouring in all summer. It had certainly ensured that things were never boring in the city. Tracy had been particularly taken with it all, and even Dante had ventured down there once in a while.

Something on the TV caught Dante's attention. He looked up to see footage of American soldiers marching through a small oriental village.

"Oh goodness, not this again," she said, glancing up from her work at the TV. "Absolute savagery, that's what's going on over there. Not to mention all the ruckus it's causing over here!" She took another order and rang the bell before refilling a cup of coffee two seats down from Dante. "Two years ago I'd never even heard of Vietnam. Now you can't turn on the TV or radio without hearing about it. It's bad enough that it's happening, but do they have to put it on TV as well?" She sighed. "But enough about me. How've you been, sonny?"

Dante sighed. "Okay, I guess. I have no trouble getting sleep, at least."

She gave him a look. "Don't tell me you're still camping in the woods across the Golden Gate."

"Why not? I kinda' like it there."

"You're afraid your uncle's gonna kick you outta' the house. If that's the case, you really ought to start looking for a real job. Here's your food."

She handed him a plate with a toasted sandwich and some onion rings. Dante reached for a bottle of ketchup to douse the latter with.

"Well, like what? I'm hardly qualified, and I can't afford college at the moment. What am I supposed to do?"

"I'll tell you what you should do," came a voice from behind him.

Dante turned around, looking for the source of the voice. It had come from the man sitting alone at a booth in between a group of teens and a few tourists. Getting a good look at him, Dante saw that he was in full Army dress uniform.

"How old are you, son?" he asked.

"Eighteen. Today, in fact," Dante replied.

"Interesting," the man said. "In that case, there are two things you should do. First, come down to the local draft board to register and pick up your draft card. You'll need that for the next thing."

"Which is?"

"Enlist."

"Wait. You mean join the army?"

"Why not? Besides doing your national duty, you get a place to sleep, three hot meals a day, decent clothes, interesting jobs, and the opportunity to travel to foreign countries. Sounds like a good deal for someone in your situation."

Dante was at a loss for words. "I don't know about this…"

"Grab your chow and come over here, son."

Dante did so, sitting across from the man.

"So, did I hear Gladys say that you live with your uncle?"

"That's right, sir."

"And he's ready to send you out the door now that you're eighteen?"

"That's what it looks like."

"What happened to your old man?"

"He's dead, sir."

"Sorry to hear about that. Do you remember him well?"

Dante felt a little uneasy, but continued. "I don't remember him at all. He died in Japan when I was a year old."

The man nodded. "I see. Is that where he met your mother?"

A piece of pastrami nearly went down the wrong tube. Dante coughed. "Sorry. Yes, that's where he met her. He was stationed there after the war. I was born there."

"So your old man was a soldier?"

"A marine, actually."

The man nodded. "I see. Did you intend to follow in the family tradition?"

"It's not really a tradition. My uncle was in the Army Air Forces, and my grandparents were immigrants."

"Did you give any consideration to enlisting, considering what your family's done?"

"Occasionally. But now that there's a war going on, my aunt doesn't really want me-"

"That's what they all say. They're all happy to do their part, until their part actually means something. Son, I'll be honest with you. The way I see it, this conflict over in Vietnam is only gonna get bigger. And, unless you get into college and get a deferment, you're likely gonna end up being called into service by your draft board anyway. You'll be serving for two years, and you won't get to decide what you do."

Dante swallowed another bite. It didn't go down easy.

"However," the man continued. "If you come back to my office and enlist, you'll not only get a place to sleep for the rest of the summer; you'll serve for three years, and you'll get your choice of assignments. Sound good?"

Dante thought for a moment. "Can I have some time to think about this?"

"By all means. If you make a decision, my office is right down the street." The man got up and left.

As he finished his food, Dante's glance returned to the TV, which was still broadcasting about the war. After seeing an officer talking with a reporter, he saw footage of coffins draped in American flags being carried out of a plane. There were lots of them, too.

He left the diner, and began to walk down the street. In truth, he actually had considered military service before, and not just as an option after school was over. His father and uncles had served, and his uncle made sure he never forgot it. Both he and his aunt had instilled him with a deep sense of patriotism and duty during his upbringing. And, since Dante had been born in another country, he had never quite felt like he belonged. However, after he'd met Tracey, he'd been exposed to new worldviews and ideas. While he still held to his core beliefs, he didn't want his closest friends to think less of him, so he often kept them to himself. Now, however, he would have to make a choice, and not an easy one.

Remembering what Gladys had said about the parade, he turned a corner and headed towards the Fillmore District. He eventually came upon it, decked out in all its celebratory patriotic glory. As always, American flags and décor were all over the place, covering the city street in a cascade of red, white and blue. Unlike previous years, however, there were large numbers of hippies and tourists present. Nearly everyone had added some American décor to their usual colorful clothing. People carried instruments, signs, and even fireworks like sparklers. It was also considerably more inhibited, with people smoking and drinking freely, and women wearing loose and revealing clothing. Everyone seemed to be lost in the moment.

Something caught Dante's eye. A small crowd of hippies had gathered around a group of soldiers who were marching in the parade. The men were trying to follow the rest of the parade, but the crowd wouldn't let them through. Many were carrying signs and talking to them. Some were even yelling at them. Others just sang and chanted. All the while, the remaining floats and vehicles behind them were pulling around in order to pass them by.

Dante looked back and noticed that a little girl, who had been with one of the women in the crowd badgering the soldiers, had broken off from her mother and was walking in the street, right in the path of the parade floats that were trying to circumvent the crowd that had taken up half the street. Dante's heart leapt and his mind prepared for the worst…until someone stepped in front of the float and stopped it in its path. It was one of the men dressed in uniform, and he carried the girl back to her mother. The crowd dispersed, and allowed the men to continue on with the parade.

Dante watched them go, and thought to himself. Then he made his decision.

* * *

Later that night, Dante laid flat on his bed, relaxing. He wore a large pair of headphones so he could listen to a record without bothering the rest of the family. It was the latest in a long line of vinyl albums that he had borrowed from the station, and another reason why he loved his job. Not many radio stations would lend out records to their employees, but the DJ Dante worked for loved the idea of getting younger people to listen to quality music and allowed him to take one home at a time, so long as he returned them after a day or two.

Dante had gotten the usual birthday celebration. His uncle had fired up the grill and made his favorite food, he'd received his gifts, and everyone had had a great time. And just as he'd feared, his uncle had begun to drop hints that it was time for him to get a job or move out. Dante had told him what he'd done. Things had gotten emotional, but they had ultimately accepted it, and were proud of him for it. That was all he had wanted.

The record finished, and Dante took off the headphones just in time to hear a _crack_ sound at his window. He jumped off his bed and went over to open it. Outside was a pickup truck, waiting in front of the house with the engine running.

"Dante!" a boy said from the bed of the truck. "We're heading down to the beach! Let's go!"

A smile forming on his face, Dante slammed his window shut and headed for the door.

* * *

Fireworks exploded in the night sky over the Pacific Ocean as dozens of teenagers partied on the sandy beach. Campfires had been lit, and kids were running around while carrying sparklers and flares. Some kids had instruments, while others played music on a portable radio.

Eventually, after things had settled down, Dante found himself sitting on a rock with Tracy, talking and laughing. She'd just been recounting a funny encounter she'd had with some hippies in the city.

"I swear, the way some people dress, I wonder if they were high when they designed their clothes!" she said, laughing.

"You're telling me!" Dante said, laughing with her.

"But a lot of it's really beautiful, you know? Really inspiring! It's like we can finally express ourselves truthfully in this day and age! Oh, that reminds me!" She reached into her shirt, and pulled something from around her neck. "I got this while I was down there as well." And she held out her hand for him to see.

It looked like a small, transparent green gem that had been carved into a peace sign, with a small leather band for a necklace. "I got it for you. What do you think?"

"Another one? You already got me a present."

"Yeah, but I saw this one, and I just couldn't resist!" She held it up to the sky. "Look. It almost has a glow when you hold it up to the moonlight."

Before Dante could respond, she hung it around his neck. "It looks good on you."

Dante took the gem in his hand, looking at it. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said, leaning back on the rock, stretching her legs into the air. "If you really want to thank me, you can listen to what I have to say now," she said, sitting back up.

"Okay."

"I know you haven't decided what you want to do now that high school is over," she said, getting to her feet. "So I decided to take matters into my own hands!"

"What?" the boy said, incredulous.

"I found out about this really cool college program they have down in Santa Clara," she said. She walked around slowly in the sand, visibly savoring the feeling it gave to her feet. "You can study pretty much anything you want, and you can even travel! Doesn't that sound awesome?" She stopped in front of him, smiling.

Dante was dumbfounded. He wanted to say something, but she spoke first. "And I know you don't have any money of your own, but I'm willing to help you make some! I'll get a job while we're in school and help with all the payments! My parents are helping me out, anyway, so it won't be a problem! All I want is for you to come with me! What do you say?"

The boy swallowed. "Trace…can you sit down? I need to tell you something."

She sat down next to him. "Sure. What's wrong?"

Dante inhaled slowly. He'd been waiting for the right moment to tell her, but now seemed as good as any. "I've…well, I've already decided what I'm going to do."

"Really?" Her expression changed, and there was slight disappointment in her eyes, but she still listened intently. "What's that?"

The boy took another deep breath before answering. "I've enlisted in the Army."

Tracey was dumbstruck. She looked at him, a shocked expression on her face, for several seconds before finally responding. "What? Why?"

"I was talking to a recruiter earlier today. He made me a pretty good offer. I can make enough money for college, too."

"Buy why? Why would you wanna do something like that?" Her expression had gone from shock to one of anger and distress. "You never said anything about this before!"

"Honestly, I'd been considering it for a while. I guess I never really told you about it, but I didn't want to upset you."

"But you could get killed!" she said, raising her voice to just below a yell. "Don't tell me you're okay with what's going on over there!"

Dante had been afraid that this would happen. Even so, he held firm. "I believe in what we're doing, Trace. It's not pretty, but someone's gotta do it! And besides, I feel I need to do this. My father and uncles served. A lot of people are serving now, putting their lives on the line for this country. How can I say I belong if I'm not willing to do the same?"

"You don't have to throw your life away to prove you're a part of something!" the girl said, ferocity evident in her voice. She got off the rock, and knelt in front of him, taking his hands. "Did I ever treat you as anything different? I'm not like those people that belittled you because of how you look, or how you used to talk! I've always accepted you for who you are! Why do you need to do something like this to prove you're one of us?" A tear visibly fell down her cheek.

Mustering all his inner strength, Dane put his hands on her shoulders. "Tracey, I'm sorry. But I've made my decision. This is just something I feel I need to do. And I'm not throwing my life away. I'm making something of it. I'll never forget you or your friendship, and I don't want you to forget about me, either. Please…I want you to support me here, just as I'd support you. I'm asking you, as a friend."

For about a minute, the stared into each others's eyes; Dante with a firm, hopeful look, and Tracey struggling with her emotions. Finally, she gathered herself, nodded, and sat back on the rock, next to him. She leaned on his shoulder, and Dante put his arm around her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just worried about you. Dropping a bombshell like that was a bit much, even for me."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my feelings earlier," the boy replied. "I didn't know how you'd take it."

"Well, now you know," she said, smiling. "So…when do you leave?"

"In three days. My family will be there to see me off." He looked at her. "Will you come see me as well?"

She looked him in the eyes and, after a few seconds, nodded, and buried her face in his shoulder.

Dante looked out into the night sky. Fireworks had never looked so beautiful to him.

* * *

"Be sure to write us every chance you get," his aunt said, hugging him for the second time. "And don't forget to come and visit us before you're shipped out."

"No problem," Dante said. He stood at the corner bust stop just outside his neighborhood, waiting for the Army bus to come and take him all the way to Fort Ord, down in Monterey Bay, where he would receive medical examination and basic training. His whole family was there, as were several neighbors.

As happy as he was to have him there to see him off, he was still worried. Tracey still hadn't shown up, and the bus would be here any minute.

After he had said his goodbyes to everyone else, including his cousins, he faced his uncle, who shook his hand. "Dante, I just want you to know that we're all proud of you." He embraced him, and Dante returned the embrace. "And trust me, your father would be proud of you if he were here right now. Your mother, too."

"Thanks, Uncle Sean. I'm gonna miss all of you." He looked around; still no sign of Tracey.

Finally, the bus pulled up from around the corner, coming to a stop in front of the small crowd. With one final look around, Dante's heart sank. The bus doors opened, and he stepped inside.

Finding a seat, he put down his bag, and waved goodbye to his family and friends as the bus pulled away.

Dante reached into his shirt, and pulled out the small green peace symbol that hung around his neck. He gave it a long look before relaxing into his seat, saying noting the entire way.

* * *

 **Soundtrack for Chapter 1:**

 _Born in Chicago_ , by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band

 _Be My Little Baby_ , by the Ronettes

 _Dancing in the Street_ , by Martha and the Vandellas

 _Hello Vietnam_ , by Johnnie Wright


End file.
